


Farewell Stalwart Troops

by Luthienberen



Series: July Writing Prompts 2019 - Watson's Woes [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (Rathbone films)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 12:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: On the cusp of the D-Day Landings Doctor Watson is part of the support staff in a hospital readying the men. Fears of what awaits these men fills Watson as the spectre of another war meshes with the present.





	Farewell Stalwart Troops

**Author's Note:**

> Written for July Writing Prompts at watsons_woes [dreamwidth], Prompt **Day 1 "Boom"** and in light of the D-Day commemorations this year (2019), remembering 75 years since the landings on 6th June 1944.

* * *

The order had finally arrived: the landings at Normandy were to commence.

Watson gazed out of the window of the army hospital. He was part of the medical personnel preparing for the invasion. Outside, numerous numbers of support staff teamed: supplying food, clothes and equipment among a multitude of other necessities. 

The weather has been far from ideal with heavy winds, clouds and rain obscuring the beaches. Now was hardly much better, but Watson sensed that it must be the best opportunity for some time if the operation was commencing.

Inhaling sharply to stave off the sick sensation in his stomach, he turned from the window. Seeing injured soldiers lying quiet Watson's mind fled to the past.

To the boom of artillery, of the first planes roaring in the skies and the blast of fire that slammed into the ground, causing craters full of tangled and torn men.

"God protect them," he mumbled, limping forward to complete _his_ share of the final tasks ere departure.

If he fussed and muttered more than normal over his patients and the doctors who were part of the initial wave, no one commented.

Everyone understood and feared what awaited them. Yet it had to be done. It was either victory or deathly darkness.

Watson fumbled with a case of morphine.

"Sorry Father."

The priest merely smiled and took the case before departing. He would be a doctor and priest and Watson knew both would be needed as the sun rose on blood stained beaches.

Gradually the ward fell silent as those remaining watched the full ships set forth.

Past and present meshed as Watson observed. A coldness like the stillness of death stole through his frame and soul. He felt as if he were in a tomb with how the dread suffused his limbs, so that they were heavy and uncooperative.

A rustle of a skirt roused Watson and he turned his head slowly to a nurse who was pale and weary.

She smiled at him despite her exhaustion and concern. Warmth flickered inside him, responding to the _life_ before him.

"Come on my dear, let's keep the home fires burning for them."

Watson smiled through his memories and the present, grateful to see the staff return to duties or to sleep.

He quickly caught the nurse's arm as she started to walk away. She was new, arriving with Doctor Meredith Slater. Her badge proclaimed 'Mrs Brooke'.

"Thank you Nurse." 

Simple yet full of gratitude for offering hope when he was lost.

Mrs Brooke smiled again and nodded. Then she slipped away, leaving Watson burning not only with exhaustion and fear, but also a tentative hope, scrap of paper sized which would with luck ignite into a roaring blaze.


End file.
